by Tracy Wolff
She shuddered, leaned into him. “I can’t stand knowing that he’s free while my sister’s stuck in some cold, rotting tomb. I can’t stand the idea of running into him somewhere—at a party, a wedding, the supermarket. If I don’t have control of myself, I’ll loose it completely.”
“No, you won’t. You’d never give him the satisfaction.” He leaned down, kissed her gently. “I know your sister’s death will always be a part of you. I know you’ll never let it go. But you can’t let it destroy you anymore. You have to care for yourself, take some time to heal yourself.”
“I don’t know if I can.”
“Then let me help.”
Her eyes flew to his, startled. “You?”
His stomach clenched, but he ignored it. “Yes, me. I’m not going anywhere, Serena. This isn’t just until you’ve got enough shots of me for the stupid book.”
“I thought …”
“You thought what?” His eyebrows rose imperiously.
“I thought you wouldn’t want …” She struggled to find an answer he wouldn’t think offensive.
“Wouldn’t want what? Wouldn’t want you? I want you so much I couldn’t sleep the three days you were gone. I want you so much my hands ache when they can’t touch you.”
She moved to interrupt, but he silenced her with a finger against her lips. She looked so shocked that doubts began to assail him. Had he read her completely wrong? Was she just killing time with him? Using him like Deb had?
But Serena wasn’t like that. He closed his eyes for a minute, saw again the joy on her face last night as she stood surrounded by various pieces of his work. He remembered the light in her eyes when she photographed him, the passion between them as they made love. No, she wasn’t using him.
Serena was as serious about him as he was about her, whether she knew it or not. Now it was just a matter of treading carefully until she reached the same conclusions he’d already drawn. He reached up, stroked a hand through her hair. “I know it’s only been a couple of weeks. I know it’s too soon to talk about the future. But you need to understand that this isn’t casual. I won’t let you walk away from me when this book is done.”
Serena stared at him for a minute, the room totally silent except for the ticking of the clock hanging on the wall near the door. Kevin was asking for a lot, for more than she’d ever been willing to give. When she was with a guy—which wasn’t that often, she admitted ruefully—she was always careful of the ground rules. Keep things hot in bed and cool everywhere else. Remember that the relationship won’t last. Keep it casual.
From the very beginning, Kevin had blown that credo out of the water. Cooking her breakfast after she’d freaked out, holding her when she’d cried, making love to her until she screamed. None of those actions were casual.
Panic rushed through her, making her stomach clench and her head hurt. What was she supposed to do about him? He was a good man, surprisingly good. But there wasn’t room in her life for a serious relationship.
Why not? an insidious voice inside her head cried out. Why can’t you be with him? He’s right. You can’t wallow in guilt forever.
Sandra’s dead, she answered the voice.
But you’re not.
Taking a deep, shuddering breath, she concentrated on counting to ten as she slowly exhaled. This was getting her nowhere, getting them nowhere. Kevin’s opening started in—she glanced at the clock—fifteen minutes and she didn’t even know if he’d finished installing the sculpture. She’d been so numb when he ushered her through the lobby that she wouldn’t have seen a nuclear warhead sitting there.
“We need to go,” she told him.
“Go where?” he demanded.
She gestured toward the lobby. “Your presentation.”
“Screw my presentation. I want to finish this.”
She sighed heavily. “Kevin—”
A knock sounded on the door and she grabbed on to it like a lifeline. Serena rushed across the room and threw the door open, shocked to see her agent standing on the other side.
“Steve! What are you doing here?” She stretched to kiss his cheek, leaning into his wiry, compact body for a quick hug.
“I wouldn’t miss Kevin’s big day, luv.” His clipped British accent always made her smile. It seemed so incongruous coming from such a flamboyant man. Today he was wearing bright orange, a color that should have clashed horribly with his red hair but somehow didn’t. Of course, the orange shirt was tucked into a pair of khakis, making the combination downright conservative for Steve.
“Kevin, the sculpture looks magnificent!” Steve commented, reaching out to shake his hand. “After ten years, I still can’t understand how you can design something so exquisitely perfect.”
“You’re just glad I can, right?” Kevin answered, a wolfish smile on his face.
“Damn straight. You Yanks always know how to hit the nail on the head.” He glanced at his watch. “But what are you two doing cowering in here? I expected Rena and her favorite camera to be all over that incredible structure out there.”
“We’re running a little behind.”
He rolled his eyes. “You’re always running a little behind, Kevin. Out of choice, not necessity. But I expected better of my best girl. Serena, darling, what’s happened to you? You look quite a mess and you aren’t brandishing the whip very well over Kevin, now are you, my girl?”
“Serena was nearly killed today,” Kevin interrupted before she could say anything. “A car jumped the curb and almost hit her.”
“Serena!” Concern replaced humor in Steve’s eyes as he crossed to her. “Are you all right?” he demanded, running his hands over her arms as he checked her visually for any damage.
“I’m fine, really.” She glared at Kevin over their agent’s shoulder. All she needed was Steve in full mother-hen mode. “All the bumps and bruises I have are from Kevin tackling me.”
He shrugged. “I did save your life.”
She snorted. “You busted my favorite camera. Not to mention ruined the absolutely fabulous pictures inside of it.”
“Such is life, bebe. At least you still have one.”
“Children, children,” Steve interjected, a fascinated smirk on his face. “However enjoyable I find this, Kevin needs to be changed and ready to go in—” He checked his watch—“five minutes. Which means the two of you need to hustle.”
“I am ready.” Kevin shrugged as they both turned incredulous looks on him. “You know I’m not big on these things, Steve.”
“I know. But you still need to look presentable. At the moment you look a cross between happy construction worker and crazed serial killer.” His eyes narrowed as Kevin snorted. “But not to worry. I brought you a change of clothes.” He tossed Kevin his briefcase.
Kevin eyed Steve’s colorful ensemble with a sneer. “I don’t think so.”
“But I do. And I’m always right.” Steve turned to Serena, winked at her fascinated expression. “I figured you would look fabulous in a nice, hot pink—”
“No way!” Kevin’s roar was outraged.
Steve sighed hugely. “But, alas, I know you. So everything in the bag is black. Now be a good boy and put the clothes on. You have exactly three minutes and if you’re ready in time, I’ll even throw in a couple of Twinkies.” Steve reached in his pocket and pulled out three of the snack cakes.
Kevin glared at him furiously for a moment, his eyes alternating between the Twinkies and Steve’s face. Serena was sure that he’d tell Steve exactly what he could do with the clothes in the most impolite manner possible. She found out, however, how wrong she was when Kevin simply heaved a sigh of disgust and began undressing.
Steve flashed a satisfied grin at Serena, whose mouth had fallen open in shock. Kevin never let anyone tell him what to do, yet he’d barely put up a fight with Steve.
“How did you do that?” she whispered, as Steve crossed to her and began straightening her strap.
“Magic, luv. Pure magic.”
&n
bsp; “I guess.”
“And I keep him on a very short leash.”
“I heard that!” Kevin pulled the fine, silk T-shirt over his head and tucked it into the linen trousers Steve had picked out for him. “Can we go now?” he asked in an aggrieved tone.
“As soon as you put on your new shoes we can,” Steve answered.
Kevin eyed the black loafers in disgust. “I don’t do preppy shoes.”
Steve opened a Twinkie. Took a bite. “You do today.”
Serena watched, fascinated, as Kevin snarled at their agent. Right before he put on the shoes.
Chapter Eleven
Kevin pulled off his tie, sinking gratefully onto the relative comfort of the hotel room sofa as he did. He put his feet up, closed his eyes and spent a few minutes just soaking in the quiet. Silence was his favorite sound, he decided, as he studied the paint swirls on the ceiling above his head. Or at least his second favorite. His absolute favorite were the incredible noises Serena made as she came—high, breathless sounds that made him hard just thinking about them.
Serena. His heart beat faster at the thought of her. He’d only known her a couple of weeks, yet the thought of returning to his life without her held no appeal. The privacy and solitude that he craved—that inspired him—seemed empty without her. Self-indulgent. Lonely.
What the hell was he going to do when she left?
And she was going to leave. He had seen it in her face when they’d talked this afternoon. He could feel it in the distance that was suddenly between them. He knew that he’d scared her with his talk of permanence, but he hadn’t been able to hold it inside any longer. He didn’t know where they were going, didn’t know where they’d end up. But he knew he wanted to try to build something with Serena. For the first time since Deborah left him, he felt something for a woman. And what he felt for Serena made his feelings for Deb seem like child’s play.
Tonight hadn’t been nearly as bad as he’d expected. It hadn’t been good—particularly with Steve and Marsha prodding him every ten seconds, expecting him to jump through hoops for the art patrons who’d shown up. More than once he’d been ready to tell Steve to go to hell, but then Serena would touch him. A hand on his shoulder, an arm around his waist, a kiss on his cheek. She calmed him without even trying, relaxed him in an environment that usually set his teeth on edge.
Not that he was dying to go to another opening anytime soon, but at least he’d made it through this one without incident. Something Steve and Marsha agreed would go into the record books. He smiled briefly, remembering his last gallery show. A group of patrons had been standing around discussing the meaning behind two of his sculptures and doing a piss-poor job of it. He’d finally had enough and told them in no uncertain terms how stupid and unimaginative he thought their interpretations were before knocking a full champagne tray to the floor and storming out of the gallery.
His smile widened. Steve and Marsha had had to do a lot of cleanup on that one, which in his mind made the whole thing even sweeter. The fact that over fifty pieces had sold that night just proved what he’d been saying all along—it really was all about the art. Nobody cared if he was suave and sophisticated or brash and backward. The art was the important thing.
But there had been no such outbursts tonight—no flaring tempers, no need to escape. Serena had calmed him, centered him and he’d found himself, if not enjoying his time at the gallery, then at least tolerating the forced interaction with others.
The water in the adjoining bathroom stopped running and his entire body tightened with anticipation. He might only have Serena for a little while longer, but he was going to put every minute of that time to good use. She’d seduced him last night—now it was his turn to return the favor.
He got up and dimmed the lights. Lit the candles he’d asked room service to deliver. Answered the knock at the door indicating their late-night snack had arrived. He tipped the waiter and ushered him out of the room just as Serena opened the bathroom door, wrapped in a brown silk robe he’d never seen before.
Her dark chocolate eyes found his across the shadowy room and clung, even as she tightened the robe’s sash around her waist. She looked … nervous, he decided. Good. He liked knowing that he unsettled her, that he could break through her cool reserve without even trying.
“Champagne?” he asked, reaching for the open bottle behind him.
Her eyes widened as she saw the table that room service had set up. “Where did that come from?” she asked.
“Steve’s not the only one who can work a little magic.” He filled a champagne flute before holding it out to her. “Are you hungry?”
“Starved.” She accepted the glass, her body brushing against his as she reached for a strawberry. “It’s been a long day.”
“Tell me about it.” He grabbed the lapels of her robe, pulled her close for a kiss. Their lips met, clung. What he’d intended to be sweet turned wild in an instant.
Serena moaned and pressed tightly against Kevin as her body ignited. No one ever made her feel the way he did. No one even came close. He’d shaken her up with his talk of the future earlier, but she was sure she could get around him. Convince him that the present was the only place that mattered. Talk him into enjoying what they had as long as they had it.
His lips sipped tenderly from hers. His tongue lightly stroked her bottom lip. His hands skimmed gently over her back, as if afraid of pressing too hard on the bruises that had formed on her delicate skin.
“Thank you,” she murmured against his mouth.
“For what?” His lips skimmed across her forehead, over her cheek, down her neck.
“For saving my life. For holding me when I fell apart. For taking such good care of me.”
“I’ll always take care of you, bebe. Je t’aime. I love you.”
Serena shook her head, shut out the incredible sweetness of his words. Unable to answer Kevin, she returned his sentiments in the only way she could. Pulling his mouth back to hers, she nibbled his upper lip before sliding her tongue against his. And in an instant, what she had intended to be fast and frenzied turned soft and sweet.
Moaning low in her throat, she closed her eyes against the sudden, insistent sting of tears. She took a deep breath and inhaled the familiar, musky scent of him. She licked her lips and tasted him there. Reached out her hands and felt his smooth skin, his hard muscles. How could she walk away when the book was done? How could she give him up when all she wanted to do was hold on forever?
But happiness was fleeting and there was no guarantee on human life. She’d learned that lesson early and well. Determined to enjoy the time they had left, she slowly unbuttoned Kevin’s shirt before pushing it off his shoulders.
Her head dipped and she traced the strong lines of his chest with her tongue. Kevin groaned, fisted a hand in her hair and tugged her face up to meet his.
“Tonight we do it my way.” He traced the soft, outer shell of her ear. Ran his tongue over the hollows of her throat. Skimmed his lips over her chest until he found one ripe, raspberry nipple and pulled it into his mouth.
Serena’s knees went weak as her awareness shrank to encompass Kevin and only Kevin. Her hands fisted in his glorious hair and she arched her back, offering him everything that she had, everything that she was. To hell with the future and to hell with the consequences. She wanted him, needed him, and for this brief moment of time he was hers.
Kevin eased her onto the bed, untying her robe as she went so that she was bared to him. He stretched out beside her but didn’t touch her. Serena moved restlessly, frustrated and aroused nearly beyond reason. He was close enough that she could feel his breath against her cheek, but whenever she turned toward him he moved just a little farther away.
“Kevin!” She sounded petulant, demanding, but couldn’t stop herself. Her breasts throbbed and her inner thighs ached. She wanted him to take away the pain.
“Serena!” The word was low, mocking and his voice was filled with laughter. “Do you wan
t something?”
“Yes.” She reached a hand toward him, but once again he moved beyond her grasp.
“What do you want?”
“You know.” She kept her voice low and her eyes averted.
“I don’t.” He waited until her eyes lifted to meet his. “Why don’t you tell me?”
“Kevin!”
He skimmed his lips over her shoulder, then pulled away abruptly. “What do you want, Serena?” His voice was hoarser than it had been, but she was too aroused to notice.
Rising up on her elbows, she glared at him with hot eyes. “You! I want you.” Her eyes narrowed even as she rubbed her leg against him. “But that could change at any second.”
He merely laughed at her threat and for a moment she was afraid her concession hadn’t been enough. But then he leaned over her and licked a slow, hot path from her collarbone to her navel. She gasped, arched up, clutched at him desperately. He laughed again, and her stomach tightened as the sound vibrated over her abdomen. “Somehow I doubt that,” he murmured, continuing his trail from her belly button to the top of her well-trimmed pubic hair.
Serena wailed his name before she could stop herself. “Fuck me. Please fuck me.” The words poured out before she could stop them.
“How?” he asked. His mouth was hot against her, his tongue poised over her clit.
Her hips arched involuntarily, and she gasped with relief as his tongue swept over her. Once, twice. He pulled away and she nearly sobbed with disappointment.
“You didn’t answer me, Serena. How do you want me to fuck you?” His voice was an aroused growl and she took solace in knowing that she was driving him nearly as crazy as he had driven her.
“You know.” She wanted to beg, but some vestige of pride prevented it.
“Tell me anyway.” He leaned over her, his blue eyes burning brightly, darkly. “Where do you want my cock?” He ran his tongue over her suddenly dry lips. “In your mouth?” he asked, before licking his way to her breasts. “Between your tits?”